


And I Came Here All Alone

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [21]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Rank Disparity, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Hamilton indulges a bit of temptation in the privacy of his quarters.





	And I Came Here All Alone

There are days Hamilton wishes his general were a less honorable man.

It’s an irrational wish. He wouldn’t truly want Washington to be any different—wouldn’t want him to be anyone other than _who he is_ —the man Hamilton fell in love with against all better judgment and reason. He admires Washington as much for his fierce integrity as for the other amalgam of traits comprising such a complicated man.

But sometimes.

God, sometimes he wishes. Because if Washington’s morals were a little less rigid, maybe this stalemate would break. Hell, maybe Washington would have touched him months ago.

It’s a ridiculous fantasy, but Hamilton’s mind begins tracing the path anyway. He’s always had a vivid imagination. Why _shouldn’t_ he indulge it in moments like this?

He is alone in his quarters, hidden away for the night. There’s a party in the largest mess hall—Eliza’s birthday—and Hamilton _should_ be there now. But he is distracted, and poor company, and he made his excuses early. Begging off with a story about dozens of encoded communications to decipher.

He _does_ have an assignment of encoded comms, but they are few and not especially urgent. He just needed to be elsewhere tonight. He needed quiet. Distance from the noise and chaos of festivities that, by all rights, he should be enjoying _right now_.

It’s no coincidence that his mind has caught on Washington and refuses to be dislodged. These are not unrelated problems.

 _Fuck_.

He shoves aside the ache in his chest and allows his mind to wander in the direction of fantasy. A quick tapping of his console shuts down any semblance of work, leaving his quarters dim and quiet around him.

Hamilton slouches forward over his darkened console, folding his arms and dropping his head down atop them. His eyes close and his breath eases out of him in a slow sigh, as he buries himself in a different reality.

The Washington he imagines is less noble, less cautious, less guarded. There is a glint in his eyes from the moment Hamilton comes aboard the Nelson, a possessiveness on display for anyone to see. And when Hamilton recognizes his own infatuation, this time there's no cruel dance of trying to pretend the problem away. This time he doesn't terrify himself with the prospect of Washington discovering the truth and reassigning him, because when his general realizes Hamilton wants him? _This_ Washington wastes no time at all.

It’s a farce of a seduction, because here in Hamilton’s fantasies, Washington knows just how gone Alexander is. How desperate and wanton and eager he feels. How forcefully he craves to be touched.

And of course when Washington corners him, alone, in the general’s private quarters… Hamilton offers no resistance. He startles when Washington backs him against the locked door with no warning—when Washington kisses him fiercely—but he submits in an instant to every wordless command.

There’s little gentleness in this fantasy. Washington’s hands are powerful as they drag Hamilton’s clothing away and push him onto the bed. Hamilton is breathing faster now in the lonely silence of his quarters. His cock is hard beneath his uniform, and his face is hot with unsatisfied arousal. God, what he would give for Washington to touch him. For even a _hint_ of hope that one day he might be invited into the man’s bed. At this point he would probably trade the Nelson’s warp core for just a kiss.

Fuck it. Washington won’t touch him; why _shouldn’t_ Hamilton indulge himself? It won’t be the first time he’s jerked off to thoughts of his general, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

A low gasp, practically a whimper, escapes him as he reaches for his fly and opens his uniform. Pleasure ricochets along his nerves as he slips a hand beneath stiff fabric and curls it tight around his aching length. He draws himself into the open air and gives a tentative stroke, gasping at how good it feels. Wondering how much better it would be if it were Washington’s hand instead of his own.

He keeps his eyes closed, his head down, his face buried in the crook of his elbow where he still has one arm bent atop the console.

The Washington in his fantasy doesn’t speak as he follows Hamilton onto the bed. He is eloquent enough without words, pressing promises into Alexander’s skin with every kiss. His weight is warm—heavy muscle and softer edges—pinning Hamilton to the mattress. Covering him, blanketing him, _grounding him_ as their bodies move together.

He imagines the moment Washington guides his thighs apart and slips into the space between. The moment a slick cock penetrates him, stopping his breath and making his senses spin.

Alexander’s own hand has been moving relentlessly, stroking himself to the detailed fantasy filling his mind. He moans now, a soft and helpless sound. The edge is nearing, and he strokes faster. Grips himself more tightly. He uses none of the deft flourishes he usually employs when pleasuring himself. He is single-minded and relentless and utterly lost to the vision of his general on top of him—of the man’s hot mouth and strong hands—of being claimed in ways the real Washington will never claim him.

Hamilton shudders when he comes, a sob shattering from his chest. His heart feels bright and hot, his skin tingling, his breath shaky in his lungs. There is a fire inside him and it _hurts_ , trapped as it is with no outlet or escape.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. If he could simply choose not to be in love, he would do it in a heartbeat. It’s almost worse, this wordless acknowledgment between them, the uneasy stasis they have achieved. At least when he thought these feelings weren’t returned he had only himself to be frustrated with.

But he is also honest enough to admit he would never choose to go back. Better to know and be in agony than to subsist in his previous oblivion. At least this way he knows he is not truly alone.

Alexander’s hands tremble as he cleans up and changes out of his uniform. It’s still early, but softer sleep clothes make him feel calmer. Even if he very much doubts he will rest tonight, he doesn’t have to face the outside world. Doesn’t have to speak with anyone. Doesn’t have to pretend everything is normal, at least for a few fleeting hours.

He returns to his console and calls his work back to the screen, honing his focus once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Honor, Sound, Magnitude
> 
> I also hang out **[over on Dreamwidth](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/)** , if you'd like to find me there.


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